Peace is a Verb
A performance poetry
There is silence in peace
It is deaf, the meek corners
The rubbles scattered
Stretching on the ground
And in the spaces,
Do you hear it?
"Silence!"
I wrench and tumble
But there is no sound,
No whisper, No mumble.
No one to hear,
All the cry, the prayers, the scream
I am the flaw, the suspect in their scheme.
There is solitude in peace
It is the absence
The abandonment, and
All the scars they made
All the stars they take
And the houses they break.
Do you know this?
"Thieves!"
I wrench and tumble
But there is no chaos,
No quake, no ripple
No wreck, says the tv
Nothing here for the world to see
I break, slowly, in this tranquility.
There is blood in peace
A decade-long red line
A cape of all the deaths it needed
To achieve,
-- to be!
I wrench and tumble
I wrench and tumble
But there is no ground
And there is so little of me
Finally, do you see?
"Peace!”
I wrench and tumble
And I tumble
And tumble once more
And then -- there!
The peace you wanted!
I wrench and look!
I look up and see!
And -- I see.
All the blood this peace needed is me.
I wrench and tumble
And cry and plead
I break and bleed!
And when finally, there is peace,
There is nothing of me.
So I lie down on the ruins
unmoved, unfeeling
silenced and dying
-- I!
I smile,
And I try,
but alas!
It’s when I realize,
This peace is for you.
“You knew!”
All the solitude, lies, and silences.
“You heard!”
This peace is for the world.
“You see?”
But it’s not for me.
